Enjoy the silence
by Lothiriel84
Summary: Red John is dead and gone. And it's for real this time. - Title from namesake song by Depeche Mode.
1. Chapter 1

**Enjoy the silence**

He had never assumed that his hunt for Red John was going to end with the clichéd _and they lived happily ever after_. He didn't believe there would be any _ever after_ in the first place.

Then the unthinkable happened. A joint chase through the Mojave Desert – the CBI and the FBI both willing to cooperate for once – leading to a car crash.

Red John is dead and gone. And it's for real this time.

The following couple of weeks are just a blur. He dimly recalls spending his hours lying on his brown leather couch, desperately trying to unravel his thoughts. Half afraid that, if he makes a single false move, the world around him will shatter into a thousand of pieces – like one of those crystal goblets when it falls to the ground.

It's in the dead of the night – a night just like the ones before, except that he's suddenly tired of waiting – that he gets up and finally leaves the bullpen.

He drives around for hours until he finds himself pulling over in front of Lisbon's condo.

The dawn is just breaking, all things wrapped in grey and almost unreal in the dim light.

It takes her a few minutes to come to the door. Her hair is tousled, her eyes full of sleep.

He offers her an apologetic smile, steps inside and shuts the door behind himself.

All of a sudden she's aware that something big is going on. She just can't guess what this _something_ might actually be.

That's when he places a hand on her cheek – his thumb gently lifting her chin. His searching gaze meets her own and holds it for a long time.

She doesn't flinch under his intent stare. She simply returns it, and marvels at what she finds there.

For the first time since they met, Jane his laying bare his soul. It's all in his eyes, and he lets her see it.

They just look at each other and understand. No need for words.

Words are open to misinterpretation, while their eyes are not.

Slowly his thumb slides from her chin to rest on her lower lip. It's the most intimate gesture she has ever received from him, and she's unable to suppress the shiver that runs down her spine.

Without a second thought, she tilts her head and brushes her lips on his fingertip.

His gasp is so soft that she hardly hears it.

Slowly his free hand wraps around her waist. He doesn't break eye contact even for a moment – has to be sure whether she's okay with that or not.

She rests her head on his chest and slides her arms around him.

There will be a time for kissing, a time for sweet nothings to be whispered fondly in each other's ear. Now they content themselves with holding each other – his hand drawing circles on the small of her back.

Comforting closeness and understanding silence are more than they've ever dared to ask for anyway. All the rest would come in due time.


	2. Chapter 2

_**Author's note: **As Donnamour1969 kindly requested, I'm trying to continue this story. I guess it will turn into a (very short) collection of one-shots or something like that. Hope I'm not going to disappoint anyone..._

* * *

The first time he kisses her is not overly romantic or anything like that.

Not a single word has been exchanged throughout the whole drive, and now here they are. Lisbon stares at the two plain tombstones as if she's trying to memorize the way _their_ names are engraved – her arm wrapped tightly around his waist in order to offer him her silent support.

It's more of a friendly gesture than an expression of love. She wouldn't dare to do anything of the kind in front of _them_.

The fact that Jane has asked her to come here with him is a sign of how much she means to him. He's been sharing several details about his previous life lately, and she feels grateful for that.

Her arm leaves his waist just for a moment as she stoops and lays the bunch of white lilies on the ground. Suddenly bereft of her soothing touch he shivers – his eyes quietly begging her not to leave him alone.

Warmth and comfort spread through his body as her hand finds the small of his back. They stand there for a while, and she can feel his body trembling with stifled sobs.

She runs her hand along his back and rests it on his shoulder. Her gaze meets his watery eyes and silently tells him that it's okay if he wants to cry.

Tears begin trickling down his cheeks. He buries his face against her collarbone and lets her fingers gently stroke his hair.

When he's done with crying they slowly walk back to the car. The morning is cool and bright, the grass a dazzling emerald green under the clear sky.

She pauses a moment to wipe away a tear that is still lingering on his cheek. His eyes are strangely vulnerable now, as he gazes at her and suddenly sees her for what she really is.

The woman who'll always be there to wipe away his tears.

Before he can quite realize what he's doing, his lips brush against hers almost of their own accord.

He's gentle, sweet. Takes his own time.

She allows him to take the lead – knows that he needs it right now.

His kiss means a lot of things he isn't ready to tell her yet.

_I love you._

_I want you to marry me._

_I want you to be the mother of my children._

Someday he is going to tell her. And her answer will consist of two simple words.

_Me too._


	3. Chapter 3

_**Author's note:** Here's the last one-shot. Hope the readers are going to enjoy it as well..._

* * *

His eyelids flutter open as the first morning light comes in through the blinds.

He is greeted by the sight of his lovely wife still fast asleep at his side – her arm wrapped around him as if she's afraid he won't be there when she wakes up.

Silly little woman. How could he want to be anywhere else?

That's the thing he secretly appreciates most about being a married man. Waking up in the morning to find his beloved one warm against his chest – her sweet smell a mix of soap, cinnamon and sleep.

He can't help brushing his lips lightly against her hair, trailing featherlike kisses down her temple, her cheekbone, the tip of her nose.

Teresa mumbles something in her sleep and snuggles closer to him.

That's when his fingers start tracing elaborate patterns on her skin – from the curve of her neck to her delicate shoulder, following the line of her collarbone.

She sighs contentedly and presses her lips on his bare chest. A single move, as it's clear she's only half awake.

A moment later her breath becomes even once again, and he knows she's drifting towards sleep.

The sound of her steady breathing gently lulls him to sleep as well.

He dozes for a while, only to be woken by a soft touch on his cheek.

Slender fingers are grazing his stubble, slightly tickling him. He smiles even before opening his eyes.

Abigail is considering him with her customary pensive gaze. She's strangely quiet for a toddler – never squeals as a kid is wont to do.

She has inherited both her father's uncanny insight and her mother's mama-bear attitude. No wonder she feels such a strong connection with him.

It's pretty much as if she can read something about the pain he's been through, and wants to make up for it.

That's a bit scary and oddly sweet at the same time.

He lifts her and places her beside him on the bed. A radiant smile finally shows on her lips as her father cuddles her and buries his fingers in her silky hair.

A grin flashes across his face as he recollects Teresa's baffled expression when he suggested the name for their daughter. And her eyes suddenly brimming with tears as he explained the reason why he chose it.

Abigail means _father's joy_ after all.


End file.
